What You Really Came For
by benedictcumonmybaps
Summary: Destiel; Dean and Castiel find themselves stuck somewhere they can't escape. They have to find out how they got there and what they're there for, which might be the key to getting back out.
1. The Painting

"So how long do we have to camp out here?" Dean asked, busying himself with a slice of cherry pie. Sam kept his eyes on his laptop, giving it a frown as his fingers tapped away.

"Until we find out why people are disappearing, Dean."

"_*Were*_ disappearing. There hasn't been a missing person in what, eight years?"

"Well, either we find out what's happening in the next twenty-four hours, or you spend that time glaring at the mechanics working on your car," the younger Winchester said, giving Dean a poignant look. Dean only glared back, muttering something about damn assholes beating up his car before stuffing his mouth with another piece of pie. "You're the one who banged it up in the first place."

"If the vehicle is not working, then I could simply-"

"No, Cas," Dean said, putting his hand out to stop the angel who fell silent. "I told you, your little flying-teleport-bullshit makes me queasy." Castiel pressed his lips together, his gaze falling to the slowly cooling cup of coffee sitting in front of him.

"Why don't you and Cas go look around?" Sam asked without looking up from his computer, the clicking of keys starting to grate on Dean's nerves. "I'll meet you at the motel in a few hours."

Dean nodded, snatching his beer up before heading out, confident the angel would be right behind him. Castiel was soon walking alongside the hunter, his gaze locked on front of them as Dean glanced nonchalantly about, taking a few sips from his bottle as they wandered the streets. The silence was uncomfortable, at least for the hunter. He was sure that Castiel didn't even notice, but that didn't make him feel any better. He was about to say something, anything, before he spotted an old antique-and-used-shit store. Normally it wouldn't attract his interest, but he was bored. And desperate.

"Hey, let's check it out," Dean said, tilting his head towards the place as he tossed his now empty bottle into the gutter. Castiel simply nodded, following him into the shop with wide, trusting eyes. That bastard. He always looked like a goddamn puppy.

The place was almost a wreck. Dean had known everything would be old, but, jesus, this was ancient. Almost all the items looked like they would crack and turn to dust as soon as they were touched, and what didn't still most likely hadn't been used in at least a century. Sam would be having a field day, he was sure. Maybe he'd bring his brother around later…just imagining him fanboy all over the old stuff made Dean immediately decide against it. He could do without that as long as he could manage. The owner of the store looked about as old as everything else, wearing some freaky-looking goggles as he fixed a watch. A pocket watch, of course. What else? Dean walked over, deciding to at least ask the guy if he knew anything about the local disappearances. From the look of it, he'd be surprised if the old man remembered his own name.

"Lookin' for something'?" The question caught Dean off guard. Holy shit, it was alive.

"Ah…just…takin' a peek," Dean said, giving him a short smile and a nod. After he'd collected his thoughts and had another glance around he turned back to the old man, who had the creepiest sort of smile on his face. The goggles didn't really help. "So…how long have you, ah…lived here?" Lame question. Probably a million years, from the look of it.

"Longer than you've been alive, young man," the man answered, never looking up from the watch. Dean didn't doubt it.

"So..you remember the disappearances that happened around here? About…eight to twenty years ago," Dean continued, assuming that he'd probably at least heard something, which was better than waiting around in the motel room. They didn't even have a vibrating bed, cheap jerks.

The old man's smile only broadened, a disconcerting look, to say the least. "Your friend has found the painting, I see," he said, ignoring Dean's question. Dean was about to ask 'what painting', followed by 'how the fuck did you see that, you haven't even glanced up since we came in', but turned to look for Castiel instead. The angel was standing in front of a softly lit painting, a dull one at that: it contained a picture of a fairly standard-looking white house, complete with front lawn and cute suburban-y feel. It looked familiar, a feeling Dean just couldn't shake. He continued to watch as Castiel reached out to touch the thing; as soon as his fingers brushed the canvas, he was gone.

"What th-" Dean started, looking around the shop. What the hell? Cas wouldn't just leave, all the sudden; he also hadn't heard the wings, the wings he could always hear when Castiel appeared…or disappeared.

"He's found the painting," the man repeated, causing Dean to whirl back around and face him.

"YOU did that?" he snapped, reaching back for his pistol, his eyes narrowed dangerously. The man didn't react. "Bring him back!"

"I'm afraid I can't. It wasn't me."

"Then where the fuck is he? Answer me!"

"The painting." Dean was beginning to lose his patience, keeping the gun trained on the old man as he walked to the painting, looking it over. It hadn't changed; the was nothing different about it, nothing…then he saw it. The scenery was somehow different, in a way he couldn't explain, but he could swear he saw the softest shadow of wings and the tip of a trench coat.

"What the fuck did you do?" he asked again, turning to the man, both hands clutching the pistol held in front of him. "Give him back!"

"The painting has taken him, there is nothing I can do," the old man said, finally stopping his work on the watch. "He saw something in that painting, something that called to him. That's how the painting works." Dean risked another look at the picture, studying that spot that he was sure was different.

He must have blinked, fallen asleep, something; the next second he was standing in the driveway of the house, his gun now pointed at freshly mowed grass. He glanced around, blinking hard. No, he was awake. This must be the painting..whatever the fuck it was. He tucked his gun away and headed towards where he'd seen the wings, walking cautiously up the front steps, nudging his way inside. So familiar…he knew this place...

"Dean." He nearly jumped at the voice, turning to find Castiel mere inches away. He pressed his lips together, fighting his instinct to grab his gun.

"Cas," he finally said, still shocked to see the angel, who looked about as confused as he felt. "You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Castiel answered, his eyes never leaving Dean. "There is no one here." Dean frowned, glancing past the man to try and catch a glimpse of the rest of the house. It was all silent; Cas must have been right.

"We have to get out of here," he growled, grabbing the angel's arm as he barged on into the kitchen. As soon as he was through the doorway he was suddenly in a dark, cold barnhouse that was all too familiar. "Cas…this is…"

"Where we met," Castiel finished, a sort of wonder hinting in his monotone voice. He walked forward without the hunter pulling him along, looking around at the place before patting his chest with a small, reminiscent smile. "This is where you stabbed me." Dean rolled his eyes, feeling some heat rise to his cheeks. Yeah, he'd tried to stab an angel. So what? He hadn't known that at the time.

"Yeah, awesome. Can we go now, please?" Dean asked, watching as Castiel turned to him.

"We tried to leave the house as well. Where do you suggest we go?" the angel asked, as Dean frowned at him. He didn't know, he just knew they needed to leave. Nothing felt right here; it was too empty, too quiet.

"I don't..I don't know. Try flying us out of here," Dean suggested, moving over to Cas with a grim expression. Castiel nodded after a moment's consideration, gripping the hunter's shoulder. Suddenly they stood on a snowy plane, white stretching for miles and miles in a sky that seemed to imitate the color beneath it. It wasn't cold, though, which was probably the strangest thing about the landscape. Castiel took a step away for a moment as Dean dealt with the repercussions of angel transportation, his eyes wandering over the serene landscape. He looked surprised, yet somehow still calm; Dean was as confused as ever.

"Where the hell did you take us?"

"Ironically…heaven," Casitel said, turning to Dean with a smile. "To be more specific, my heaven. Though I do not know why we are here…"

A figure appeared, seemingly from nowhere, growing more distinct as it approached. Dean recognized her as soon as she was upon them.

"Anna."

(More chapters on the way! Hopefully longer ones, too.


	2. The Things We Realize

"Okay. Explain that again, in English this time."

"What's there to explain, Dean? Castiel brought you here. You're just getting a backstage pass to Heaven," Anna hummed, motioning them to follow her as she started walking off into the white. Suddenly the scenery wavered in front of her, like heat waves coming off of hot asphalt, and they walked into what appeared to be a lounge.

"…you're kidding me," Dean uttered, taking a look around the place. Light blue LEDs lit up the walls, the furniture made from what looked like marble and fur, a multitude of bottles neatly lined behind a snow-white bar. Dean only knew one man who'd decorate anything like this. Well, angel.

"Deano! Am I glad to see you," Gabriel called from behind the bar, where the hunter could have sworn he wasn't a second ago. "Want a drink? Ah, hell-look who I'm asking." Before Dean could even muster a 'thanks' Gabriel had pulled up a glass, filling it with what looked to be 18 year-old whiskey. The older Winchester shook his head, trying to shake away this newest mirage. It had to be fake…this was all just too, too surreal. That, and Gabriel was dead.

"What the _fuck_ is going on here," he growled at Cas, sticking close to the only angel he trusted in this place. He could spot other people around, who he had to assume were angels; even Lord-of-All-That-Is-Douchebag Zachariah was there. In fact, every angel he'd met was in the room. Castiel only had a sorry shrug for an answer.

"What is going on, bucko, is a family reunion," Gabriel explained, nearly making Dean jump as he appeared beside the hunter, holding out his drink. "Now, what you see might be a bit different from what your buddy Cas is seeing, considering he can see our true forms and all that, but I've modified the room so you can party too."

"Angels…party?" Dean asked, still suspicious of the angel…but not enough to turn down the drink. It was good stuff, after all. Who was he to let it go to waste?

"Only when I'm around," Gabriel hummed, a self-content smirk firmly planted on his lips. "Now, I don't think you'd call what we do partying, but hey. This is the best I can do." Dean hadn't even noticed Castiel leaving, walking with Anna towards Uriel and a few others concealed by low-hanging mood lights. This definitely was Gabriel's doing.

"Look, no offense, but I don't believe any of this bullshit for a minute," Dean said gruffly after polishing off his drink. "You're dead. I saw you die." Gabriel gave an apologetic shrug of the shoulders, plucking the glass from Dean's hand before moving back to the bar.

"There's a complicated answer for that, but I'll dumb it down just for you," the angel finally said once he'd maneuvered himself behind the bar, Dean taking a seat in front of him. Before Dean could protest, he continued. "This place ain't exactly real. And before you say anything, yeah, I'm not real either. None of these people are. Well, aside from you and my baby bro over there." Dean leaned heavily against the bar, beginning to regret even asking.

"…then what the fuck is happening? Did that old man poison us?" he asked, though realized it was a bit silly to be asking a fake person these kinds of questions.

"Uh, no. It would be quite a feat to poison an angel, even you know that." Dean was beginning to think he wouldn't be able to get through a conversation with faux-Gabriel without his intelligence being insulted every other sentence. "No, I'm afraid you're in that painting, just like the old geezer said."

"But that painting was a picture of a _house_," Dean cut in. "Not this stripper-less stripper joint. You tellin' me we're still stuck in that thing?"

"Strippers….good idea, Deano. Not sure the garrison would approve, though." Gabriel hummed, pouring both of them another drink. "You already went through another scene. The barn? Remember that? You know, where you tried to stab an angel with a cute little knife." Dean frowned, hard. Did everyone know about that?

"How the fuck do you-"

"Know that you stabbed him? Dean, I'm not real. I'm part of you and Cas' collective unconscious," Gabriel explained, tapping the older Winchester on the forehead before leaning back to his side of the bar. "The truth is, kid, this painting only takes people who see something they want in it. What Cas saw was probably different from what you did, and it pulled him in. Do you remember why you were pulled in?"

Dean didn't answer, but he knew. He'd seen Castiel's shadow, just a glimpse of him in the painting…and he'd been caught. He could guess what that meant, but it sure as hell wasn't something he'd admit to out loud. Especially to Gabriel. But the trickster smiled anyway, a knowing look that made Dean want to punch him right in the face.

"Yeah. Well, since my dear brother wasn't part of the original painting, I'm afraid you're a bit of an outcast here. It still has your angel, though. He's seeing what he wants to see." They both looked over to Cas, who appeared to still be talking to his friends. His family. Dean pressed his lips together. Castiel looked so…happy. Part of the hunter wanted him to stay that way, to enjoy what happiness he could find. Lord knows if he would ever find happiness again. But it was fake; this painting was holding him there with lies. And he couldn't let Cas live like that. He downed his second drink and stood with grim determination, heading over to Castiel.

"We need to go," he growled, gripping the angel's shoulder. Cas turned to look at him, the smile he had on his lips slowly fading. "Now, Cas. Please."

"Let him stay if he wants to," Anna interjected, leveling Dean with a glare, even though she still wore the semblance of a smile. Castiel looked between the two, clearly at a loss. It was obvious, painfully obvious, that he wanted to stay. But Dean couldn't let him. He needed Cas, whether he would admit it or not, and he needed them to get out of there.

"Dean. I said, let him go." When Dean finally turned his attention back to the group of angels in front of him, there were no longer any happy faces. Instead an anger spread through them, their focus very much set on the only hunter in the room.

"Cas…" Dean started as they began to approach, slowly backing away from the crowd. It was only when Anna lunged for him that Castiel wrapped himself around the Winchester, and Dean could swear he saw pitch-black wings envelop him before everything disappeared.

"Dean, honey! Pie's ready!"

Dean didn't move an inch from where he stood, the combination of shock, angel transportation and nearly getting killed by a very, very angry pack of angels making all his joints and muscles freeze up. It wasn't just that, though. He recognized the voice that called out to him, even though somewhere deep inside he didn't want to. He cast one look at the dark-haired angel standing next to him before his mother appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, smiling at the two of them. "Dean. Get your brother, we're having dessert."

"Mom." He could barely say the word, anything else he might have said catching in his throat. He hadn't moved when his mother appeared again, her eyebrows raised.

"Dean. Get Sam, please?" Dean's mouth twitched into a smile and he nodded, clearing his throat before turning to head out the front door. He found Sam outside, who smiled and ran to him as soon as he saw his older brother. Dean wrapped his arms around the ten-year-old Sam, picking him up for a moment before setting him down.

"Hey there, Sammy," he managed to say, ruffling his kid brother's hair with a half smile. "C'mon, let's go get some pie."

Dean collapsed onto his bed, a content smile on his features as he patted his full stomach. Castiel stood in the doorway, calmly watching the hunter. The Winchester sighed, letting his eyes close for one blissful moment.

"That was some damn good pie," Dean chuckled, though the smile slipped from him as he opened his eyes. "Why are we here, Cas?" He turned to the angel, whose eyebrows furrowed as he glanced down.

"…I'm not sure I understand what you mean." Dean leaned up, resting on his elbows as he looked at the angel. Castiel noticed he looked tired…more tired than he'd seen in a long time. His usual tough-guy front was gone.

"Cas…we're here because the painting…or whatever the hell that thing really is…pulled you in here. Because you saw something you wanted. So why are we here, at my parents' house, with my goddamn family?" Dean demanded, though his tone wasn't rough. He wasn't angry…just lost. Castiel wandered over to the bed, taking a seat on the small wooden chair next to it.

"…I just want to see you and your brother happy, Dean," the angel explained, his voice low and gruff. "That is all."

Dean was at a loss for words. When Castiel gave him a small, sad smile he finally had enough. The hunter reached over, grasping the angel's collar to pull him into a desperate, passionate kiss. He didn't care how awkward it felt at first, their lips finally finding their place, locking comfortably together.

Maybe this had never happened before because there had never been a right moment for it. But, Dean realized, his elbow cramped awkwardly between him and the bed, supporting his weight as he leaned into the angel, that that wasn't the case. He broke for a soft, controlled breath, his eyes only partially open, watching the dark stubble on Castiel's cheeks. It wasn't that he never had the right moment. No moment would seem right to him, and, somewhere deep in his subconscious, he knew why. He knew why he'd been pulled into the painting.

"I don't deserve this," Dean whispered harshly against Cas' lips, feeling a clash of anger, despair and desperation well inside him. He was about to pull away when Castiel gripped his shoulder, his hand settling on the scar burned into Dean's skin.

"I don't know what you think you deserve, Dean. But whatever it is, you deserve far more." Perhaps it was the sincerity with which Castiel said the words, or what he said, but the Winchester cracked a weary smile.

"You goddamn asshole," Dean murmured, pulling the angel back with him into the bed and into another frantic kiss. His hands were already under Castiel's trench and suit coat, pulling them both off and tossing them to the other side of the bed. He'd managed to loosen the angel's tie, his shaking fingers working on undoing the buttons on that wrinkled white shirt, starting to turn them over when he felt himself being pressed down against the bed. He looked up at Castiel, green eyes meeting deep blue ones. He could feel the dark-haired angel's hands gripping his wrists, holding them against the grey and yellow batman sheets below them. Dean waited for an explanation but never got any, instead feeling his breath hitch as he felt Castiel kiss the freckles on his cheek, down to his jawline and neck. He did take the time to wonder if Cas knew what he was doing…but then, it didn't really matter. Whether he'd admit it or not, he liked the feeling of the angel against him, able to feel the inhuman warmth even through his clothes.

His jacket stripped off and gently placed aside, Castiel focused instead on removing the hunter's shirt, tracing his lips down and over the tattoo on his chest. It made him squirm, the slow pace the angel had taken up, but he knew he didn't want it to stop, no matter how slow it was in coming. It's what he deserved. His hips arched against the angel and he felt the man respond, glancing down to catch a light blush settle on Castiel's cheeks. He pulled the man up by his collar, pressing a kiss to his lips as he reached over, fumbling with his side drawer. This was like a dream he and Cas shared, after all, so there should be… There. His fingers hit the bottle and he picked it up, setting it next to his hip before his hand returned to slide through the angel's short, dark hair.

"Ah…use that," Dean muttered between kisses, rolling his hips against Castiel's in a way that made a breath slip past the angel's lips. The angel pressed his body against the hunter's, mimicking Dean's movements before slowly pulling his pants and boxers off. The angel heard Dean moan, the sound sending shivers through him as he gently, very carefully, nipped the hunter's skin. Castiel reached over, picking up the bottle and popping open the lid, his teeth grazing over the slightly red spot on the Winchester's neck. The liquid was a bit cold on his palm, and he waited a moment before reaching down to wrap his hand around Dean's member. He heard the hunter pull in a breath and looked up, watching as the man arched beneath him, letting out a sound that made Castiel's body grow even warmer.

"God, Cas," Dean moaned, tugging lightly on the angel's short, dark hair.

"I'm not-"

"Shut up." He felt a smile tug at his lips, his fingertips dragging down Castiel's shirt and over the arms. After a moment he felt one arm move, tracing downy he inside of his thigh and to his entrance, testing an already slick finger against it.

"Relax, Dean," Castiel murmured against his ear, pressing a soft kiss to the skin as he slid a finger into the hunter. Dean let out a sound - a god damn _whimper_ - his grip tightening on Castiel's now more than haphazard shirt and mussed hair. He pressed his lips together and tried not to make another utterance like that when the angel began to move his hand, instead focusing on relaxing his body. He wasn't sure if he could keep this up long, though.

"Hurry up, Cas. Please," he growled between breaths, his teeth next to Castiel's ear. He earned himself a look from the angel then, one that made him lose all train of thought.

"No." Dean felt himself swallow dryly, his eyes trained on one of the most intense looks he'd ever seen from Castiel, unable to come up with any sort of response. Castiel watched him for a few more moments before leaning in, catching the hunter in a slow, meaningful kiss. Dean felt his eyes slide closed, his eyebrows pulling together as he held the angel to him, his body even beginning to move with Castiel's hand. He could feel the shallow breaths against his lips, knowing his own wasn't that different; that changed when he felt the angel press his finger upwards, hitting a spot inside him that made his hips jerk. A curse formed at his lips but he was stopped by a more poignant kiss from Cas, who was kissing him so hard he needed to take a breath within moments of the contact. When the kiss was broken what came out instead was another moan, though this time Dean barely even noticed. At that moment he wanted nothing more than the angel above him, to hear his breath next to his ear. When Castiel hit that spot again the hunter wasn't able to stop a strangled cry, warmth rushing a little too quickly downwards. It didn't take long for him to hit his climax, his hips a little too eager to ride the feeling out. After a moment that seemed too short it was over, his body relaxing into the bed in a post-orgasm mess. It wasn't perfect. But it rarely was.

Castiel's hand retracted but he was soon pulled down to the bed, resting alongside the hunter. Dean seemed too embarrassed to look up at him, instead focusing on his crumpled shirt and tie, one of the Winchester's hands wrapped firmly around it. The angel hesitated a moment before reaching up with his still dry hand, gently touching Dean's temple with his thumb, brushing back to the hairline. The hunter didn't speak, but Castiel could feel the acceptance in his body, shifting very slightly closer before relaxing completely, letting sleep overtake him. At that moment, the angel wished he could sleep too; to rest alongside Dean, let himself relax as completely as humans could. But he couldn't. Instead he kept his half-lidded eyes rest on the hunter, gently stroking his temple as he let Dean get some well deserved sleep


End file.
